Don't the moon look lonesome, shinin' through the trees?

Total familiarity. Walking home this evening along ul. Karczunkowska, I might as well have been in Ohio, Kentucky or Minnesota sometime in the 1950s. The full moon sky, the scents of late summer, the landscape, suburban houses on the edge of town... Atavistic resurgence in its fullest, made manifest in its familiarity.

At times like this, I feel I have lived before, I live now and will live again.

"Don't the moon look lonesome, shinin' through the trees" - a line from about a hundred and one blues songs. Above photo: 30 sec exposure at f3.5.